I Used To be Scared. Now, I Celebrate. Cause All I Am Is Scarred.

I had an interesting conversation with a friend yesterday who, when she saw this picture and the caption I posted on IG, remarked that to look at me one would never attribute to me any of the insecurities I spoke of.

I posted about my scars.

The one that runs from the middle of my spine down and the others below it. I posted that it has taken a lot of years for me to confidently expose these scars; and in fact, at times I purposely do so. I purposely frame them to draw attention to them. Yes. You see, they tell part of my story. They are my way of letting you in and drawing you close. They are my intimacy. Because, they are my truth… in a way that very few other things can be.

I survived.

The pain. The fear. The anxiety. The insecurity. The anger. I survived that particular part of the journey that has now brought me to this part. So, now when I look at them, I see them as a testament of survival from all those things. Those markers of grit along the path I have chosen and the one that has been chosen on my behalf. Each wound, every cut, each stitch plays an integral part on the tapestry that is my beautiful life. Every tear, every scream, every cower are now reminders of what not to do, where not to go and who not to love.

Every once in a while I wear something that shows off these scars.

And, every once in a while I write something that exposes the rest.

#live #badgesofstrength #survival #will


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